


"I'd Catch You"

by Caellie_E_and_Vaye_Rue_Y



Series: Spontaneous Fics [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Character Death, M/M, Not super Graphic, Out of Character behavior, Progression over time, Some Fluff, royal au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:33:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22819303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caellie_E_and_Vaye_Rue_Y/pseuds/Caellie_E_and_Vaye_Rue_Y
Summary: "What if I fall?" Draco said, softly, and Harry stopped laughing immediately."I'd catch you," he said."You won't be there." Harry wouldn’t be by his side. He couldn’t be. He was just a noble, restricted to the seats, away from Draco, for the first time in--A while. For the first time in a while."I'd be in the crowd," Harry said, gripping Draco’s hand tightly. "And I'd catch you."(Five times Harry made a promise, and one time he had to fulfill it.)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Spontaneous Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640416
Comments: 4
Kudos: 111





	"I'd Catch You"

1\. Break

The tree was covered in crawling kids. A peal of laughter squirmed its way through the finely-crafted glass of Draco's window and hit him square in the face. He grimaced. He tried to focus on his paper. He tried not to glance outside, like the perfect role model he was supposed to be. 

He did anyway.

"Just go ahead and join them!" Harry prodded from the other side of the table. He didn't look up from his own work, though, tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth as he scribbled relentlessly on a piece of paper. Draco vaguely wondered how Harry had known he’d wanted to leave, if he hadn’t been looking. 

Draco slumped his chin into his hand, sighing resignedly. The fabric of his sleeve brushed against the side of his face, scratching his cheek with the hem. Too fancy to play in. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"We have--stuff to do!" Draco gestured to the large mass of homework he'd been given. It was probably the biggest stack of papers he’d ever seen, and he’d been in his father’s personal study, the one where he worked on all of the laws and such. "Summer break just started, and I want to get this done before I do any _ ‘playing’ _ ."

Harry rolled his eyes, finally looking up and giving Draco an exasperated smile. The bracelets on his wrists jangled. "It'll still be here when you get back. It’s not like it can randomly grow legs, get up, and just walk away."

"Kings don't take breaks," Draco parroted, crossing his arms.

"Says your  _ dad _ ," Harry scoffed, staring down disdainfully at the paper he was writing, which was written so sloppily Draco could practically read it upside-down. "The biggest spoilsport in the galaxy."

"He isn't that bad."

Harry just gave him a  _ look _ .

Draco clutched his pen tighter. Harry had made a good point, and he knew it, and he knew that Draco knew that he knew it, and Draco was annoyed. He glanced outside again and cursed himself with words he shouldn’t have known nor used, even in his head.

"Come on," Harry goaded, leaning onto his elbows and giving him an encouraging smile. There was a splotch of ink on his sleeve as well as a few smudges on his hands. Draco really wanted to do something about them, but Harry would never consent to it. "What harm can it do? It's just a tree."

"I'm a prince. Princes aren’t supposed to be--frolicking around."

"You're  _ nine _ . You’re still a kid."

Draco screwed up his face and scowled down at his work. He glanced out the window again, glaring furiously. His hand was cramping from the six essays he had finished that day alone. He rubbed at his palm, but it didn’t help much. "I have to keep up appearances."

"You're  _ nine _ ," Harry repeated, laughing a bit. "We're allowed to have fun once and a while. And, anyway, I'm sick of answering questions on our relations with Muggles." He derisively flipped the textbook in front of him shut, closing it with a loud  _ thud _ . Draco jumped, startled.

"Let's just have  _ fun _ for once." His eyes shined, his face crinkling up. He was bouncing in his chair. Draco could feel the excitement and eagerness and longing to have  _ fun _ spreading off him contagiously about the room, but… he looked down. 

"What if I fall?" He'd never climbed a tree before. And his clothes weren’t meant for playing. And that tree was so tall… He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t.

Harry shrugged, one shoulder, up and down, casually. "I'd catch you."

Draco pursed his lips, considering it. He fingered the page of his essay, the words swimming in front of him, and realized he'd written the same phrase and additional variants of it at least six times in the last paragraph alone. His eyes blurred with fatigue.

He looked back at the window again. He could hear his father's voice in his head, warning him not to fall and to not embarrass himself in front of the nation subsequently.

He looked back at Harry, who was grinning ear-to-ear. "I'd catch you," he repeated. "I promise."

Another shriek of laughter made its way to Draco's ears. 

He hesitantly nodded, his heart thumping. "Okay, then."

Harry immediately grabbed his hand and dragged him outside, homework abandoned, excitedly chattering about the best branches to grab.

Draco had never had so much fun in his life.

And he never fell.

2\. Icarus

"Icarus is smarter than that," Draco snorted. He flipped the page of his mythology book back and forth like the content would change, sneering down at the words as if they had offended him somehow. Knowing him, they probably had.

"What?"

"Icarus is the son of Daedalus, right?" Draco slowly explained. Harry nodded his understanding, although he wasn't entirely sure where this was going. "And Daedalus is like, super smart."

"Okay…?"

"And intelligence is inherited."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed. "Did the Greeks know that?"

Draco waved this aside, even though it was a perfectly good point, and continued, stabbing his finger harshly into the wood of their table. "And so Icarus must be just as smart. But he's  _ not _ . He just flew right into the sun. After Daedalus warned him  _ not to _ . Because he's an  _ idiot." _ Harry looked around cautiously. Draco's voice had steadily risen, but the librarian was somewhere else at the moment. Draco lowered his voice to an intense hiss, which was somehow louder. "And that is  _ stupid _ ."

This made sense, more or less. Harry turned the page of his own textbook, but his mind was still thinking about Draco's rant. There was something off about it. Something wrong. Something deeper. His thoughts raced. "What if he knew that it wouldn't work?"

Draco's head had slowly drifted back down to his own work--now, it shot up. "What?"

Harry faked nonchalance as he wafted his hands in the air vaguely. Draco could see right through this. "Well, you say that he should have known better than to get cocky, right?"

"...Right," Draco said. His hand was poised in the air, a page halfway to being turned. He lowered it, slightly mystified. Why...

"So, what if he knew exactly what would happen?" Harry leaned back, staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts lost now. But he knew where he was going. He didn’t want to go there. "When he flew too close to the sun?"

"He wanted to die?" Draco asked skeptically. His hands were sweaty. How had he known? How had Harry  _ known _ ? "Why would he do that? He'd just gotten free. He had his whole life ahead of him, and he should have known that. He had it all, and he threw it away. He was  _ ungrateful _ ."

"People are weird sometimes," Harry said, his eyes still intently trained on the mosaic above them. "Who knows what was going on in his head? His emotions are still valid, despite his circumstances."

Draco grew quiet, then, and Harry said nothing more. And they'd both thought the conversation was over.

That is, until Draco spoke up. Heart pounding, hands sweaty, unsurity slinking through his mind, preying on his thoughts. "What if  _ I _ fell?"

Harry straightened, stiffened, stilled as the other’s voice cut through his thoughts. His eyes narrowed. Draco turned the page of his book casually. Fakely. Harry could see right through it. "What do you mean?"

"What would happen if I ever fell?" Draco repeated. He wouldn't meet Harry's eyes. He was serious, then. Harry knew he was serious. "Hypothetically."

"Hypothetically, then," Harry said. His heart had frozen, his mind stumbling over the words over the words  _ what would happen if I-- _ oh, Draco. He’d been  _ right _ . He was right, and he hated that he was right. His heart ached knowing that he  _ had been right _ . He didn’t want to be right. Not now. "I would catch you."

"What if you aren't there?"

"I'd get there," Harry said, forcefully. Intensely. No room for compromises or negotiations. They weren't speaking hypothetically. "I promise, I'd be there to catch you."

Draco's breath caught. He still wouldn't meet Harry's eyes. If he had, all he would have seen was support. He was scared, though, of other options, and so he didn’t. "Okay, then."

Harry watched Draco warily. The page crinkled under his fingers. "Okay."

Draco didn't end up falling. He couldn’t have. 

Harry made sure of it.

3\. Coronation

The cloak hung heavily on Draco's shoulders. He shrugged them uncomfortably, sliding his fingers down the thick material. It smelled dusty, ill-covered with a lavender scent. Heavy, like the weight he was about to take on.

His breath was shaky, uneven. He could hear it echoing in the cold, empty room. He was panicking.

The fire had gone out.

But he still felt as warm as the hottest summer’s day. 

The door creaked open, and Draco jumped. It was only Harry. He smiled, warmly, his green eyes crinkling, framed by a halo of yellow light from the hallway. He pushed the door closed behind him.

"Just wanted to check up on you," he said, taking in all of Draco's regalia. He whistled, and the sound pierced through the quiet darkness of the room. "Wow," he said. "They really went all out."

Draco huffed in both annoyance and nervousness, but he felt better with just Harry’s presence in the room.

Harry came around to stand beside him, shoving his hands in his pockets. He paused. “That’s a big door.”

“Yeah.” Standing imposingly at the front of the room, huge, heavy,  _ royal _ . Looming over them. Looming over  _ him _ . Him and the too-cold room. Him and the too-heavy cloak. Looming. Just looming. Draco could feel his heart scramble down into his stomach to do jumping-jacks just by looking at it. 

They stood there, Harry silently supporting, until Draco said, uncertainty specking his voice, "I'm not ready."

Harry laughed, like that was the most absurd thing on earth."Of course you are," he said, shrugging one shoulder. "You've been preparing since you were like, nine." 

Draco shook his head adamantly, feeling the cloak swish about him with the movement. His hands shook when he reached up to rub his face. "This is a mistake. They should’ve never made me the next in line."

"Your father doesn't make mistakes."

"This could be the first." Draco's heart pumped erratically. Harry stepped closer, as if he could sense it. He probably could. 

"You'll be fine," he said lightly, although his eyes made it known that he took the words anything but. "Trust me, you will."

Draco frowned. Harry’s trust was misplaced. "You don't know that. You have no idea how much pressure I have on me right now."

“No,” he agreed, quietly. “But I can imagine it.”

Draco shivered. He wasn't cold. Harry noticed, and shifted his weight so that their arms were touching. 

"I mean, I'm just a noble," Harry said. "But I'd imagine it's pretty daunting, walking down that aisle. Under the weight of everyone’s expectations. You hold the lives of the kingdom in your hands. It must be--horrible."

"It's not just the coronation," Draco said, but he knew Harry had never meant the coronation. "I'm not ready to be  _ king _ ."

"You won't be king," Harry said. "You'd be the acting king. Until your dad croaks, and then you'll have enough experience to be fully king. He'll still advise you."

Draco's eyebrows furrowed in disdain, the cloak and the room and the  _ door _ forgotten, for a moment. "Don't say 'croaks.' It's unbecoming."

When Harry laughed, the room felt warmer, somehow. Draco relaxed a bit, and he flushed out of embarrassment, getting the distinct feeling Harry was laughing at  _ him _ . "Unbecoming!" He crowed. "You sound  _ just _ like your dad!"

Draco scowled, but there was no real heat behind it. The weight in his heart eased, just a little, watching Harry almost fall over. He held out a hand and Harry took it, pulling himself back up and wiping tears from his eyes. Draco smiled, a bit, and he felt better. Ready to face the biggest problem.

"What if I fall?" he said, softly, and Harry stopped laughing immediately. 

"I'd catch you," he said.

"You won't be there." He wouldn’t be by his side. He couldn’t be. He was just a noble, restricted to the seats, away from Draco, for the first time in--

A while. For the first time in a while.

"I'd be in the crowd," Harry said, gripping Draco’s hand tightly. "And I'd catch you."

Draco glanced at him and was surprised at how serious Harry looked. He shouldn’t have been surprised. "You promise?"

"I promise." No uncertainty. No hesitation. Harry reached out, gave Draco a side-hug, holding him up. Draco leaned into it, just for a second, and…

He took a deep breath.

Draco squared his shoulders, the ceremonial cloak not feeling as heavy. Like he had someone else to carry it with him. "Okay, then."

The door opened again, a servant this time. She looked uncomfortable, her cheeks flushed as red as her hair, like she'd run all the way there. She waved at Harry. Harry nudged him. "Sire, it's time."

Draco took a deep breath. And pushed open the big door at the front of the room, the one he’d been too scared to face. The one to the ceremonial hall.

He didn't fall.

And he made a great king.

4\. Funeral

Harry remembered this room. This room, only two years ago. Dark, cold, clammy. He hesitated outside the door, his hand hovering above the wood, not knocking. His other hand restlessly adjusted the hem of his tunic. He normally wouldn’t wear black. These were special circumstances. Unfortunate circumstances. Circumstances he hoped he’d never have to be in again. He’d never have to watch  _ Draco _ be in again.

He knocked.

A muffled answer drifted through the door, so Harry entered. 

Draco's face was smeared with tears, but the makeup had done a good job of masking the tear tracks and the dark bags under his eyes. It didn’t look like Draco. 

Harry never made any move towards a greeting. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to do  _ anything _ friendly. He wasn’t even supposed to be here. But these were  _ special _ circumstances.

And, through the makeup, Draco looked like he really needed a hug.

Probably because he did, desperately, burying his face in Harry's shoulder. Not crying. But not alright. 

"I think I'm in shock," he muttered, the sound muffled.

"I know I am," Harry whispered softly, rubbing soothing circles in Draco’s shoulders "He always seemed so..."

"Impenetrable," Draco finished. "Invincible."

The black looked much better on Draco. But neither of them commented on it. "I'm all alone now," Draco said quietly, like he was admitting a great secret. "No more advising. No more helping."

"You have me," Harry said, but the lightness was forced. Both of them noticed it, though nothing was said. They already knew.

Draco shifted his robes, and the crown on his head. It looked heavy. The cloth slithered onto the floor, trailing behind him. The corners of his mouth twitched up. "I could trip on all of this," he said, and moved to pull away from the embrace. Harry just held him tighter.

It had sounded like a joke. But it wasn't. He knew it wasn’t.

"I'd catch you," Harry promised fiercely. "I won't let you fall."

Draco's breath hitched, the sound echoing in the cold,  _ cold _ room. "Do you  _ promise _ ?"

Harry pulled back, so he could look Draco in the eyes. "I promise."

Draco nodded. Then nodded again. He rubbed his eyes, his face, and tried to smile. He couldn't. He would be able to. One day. Just not now. "Okay, then," he said.

"Okay."

The burial was short, the funeral even shorter. Lucius Malfoy had been a great king. Draco would be a better one.

And he didn't trip.

5\. Wedding

This time, Draco's ceremonial outfit was white. And he was somehow more nervous than when he was first crowned six years ago, or when he was  _ officially _ crowned two years after that. 

Harry was laughing at him. Harry was  _ still _ laughing at him.

Draco scowled, red tinting the back of his neck and the tips of his ears. "You aren't supposed to be here."

Harry shrugged one shoulder, an expression they were both familiar with by now. "I wanted to make sure you were alright." Draco felt that warm feeling bloom in his chest at the words, at the acknowledgement that Harry knew him so well, and maybe he was just noticing everything great today, but he reveled in the feeling of lightness. Happiness. He didn’t get that often anymore.

Harry was wearing white as well. It looked a lot better on him. Draco voiced it this time, and Harry chortled. "You look so  _ pale _ ," he exclaimed, reaching forward to play with the expanse of fabric. It really didn’t do a lot for Draco’s complexion. Draco spread his arms, letting the cloth hang down from his hands and brush the tips of the floor. It was too long. "Wow, the sleeves are so--unfashionably big! Why does this smell so weird?"

"It's old!" Draco defended, snatching the robe away from Harry's hands. "Be glad you don't have to wear this."

"I've never been so happy to not be king," Harry agreed. His hands were twisting around each other, reaching for something to grasp onto, rubbing the ring Draco had given him around and around his finger. Draco offered his hand as support, and Harry latched onto it, lacing their fingers together. A familiar gesture.

"You'll be king consort soon though," Draco said. He liked the sound of that. King consort.  _ His _ consort. Forever.

Harry made a face. "Will I have to wear century-old clothes that smell like someone went to battle in them? Or hadn’t washed it in months?"

"They aren't that bad!"

"Are you seriously pouting right now?"

"No!"

Draco had been pouting. It’s not like he would admit it though. He turned, gathering up his robes with one hand, and sat down next to Harry on the floor. "Are you as nervous as I am?"

"Merlin, if you feel like a dragon is clawing at your insides, then yes," Harry groaned, tilting his head back and leaning it against the wall. The pressure was really weighing down on him. What he’d imagined Draco had felt like so many years ago, before his coronation. The door was still before them, but Harry didn’t mind it nearly as much as he had before. "So many things could go  _ wrong _ ."

"The flowers could be the wrong color."

"The napkins could clash with the tablecloths."

"The candelabras might be too close to the pillars."

"We have candelabras?"

Harry turned, eyebrows raised. His eyes sparkled. He could sense teasing material. Draco groaned. "You didn't know?"

"No? Since when did we have candelabras?”

"How do you not know if your own palace has candelabras or not?" Harry asked, poking Draco in the side. "You're the king, you should know this."

“As if I’d be able to remember every little detail of the palace!”

Draco sighed happily, choppily, a laughing-sigh. And there they stayed in that space of quiet happiness for a long, heavenly moment, their hands twined together, getting their outfits dirty on the ground, Draco’s sleeves spread out around them like giant wings.

"I could fall," Draco said suddenly. "I could fall over. In the middle of the ceremony. I could trip on these." He flapped his arms. “Useless things. Fall flat on my face.”

"I'd catch you," Harry said. The lines felt familiar in his mouth, but each time they gained new meaning. Never losing the old ones. Changing. "And this time I wouldn't have to leap over nobles to do it."

"Do you promise?"

Harry tilted his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. "I do."

The wedding was the happiest event in Draco's reign so far. 

And he didn't fall. Not once, not ever.

He did stumble though.

His sleeves really were too long. 

\+ 1. War

The battle was bloody, violent, and dragged on for longer than it should have. And Draco was right in the middle of it. 

Where the king should never be.

Where the king always was.

Harry pushed his way through the mass of enemy soldiers. "Draco!" he shouted, but his words were lost in the noise of fighting. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, but he kept wasting it shouting. He knew he shouldn't have let Draco lead the charge. He  _ knew _ this, and yet… 

His heart ached for reasons he didn't understand.

" _ Draco _ !" Where was he? Was he okay? Harry stabbed his sword through another soldier, kicking the dead body away. His eyes scanned the crowd, looking for the blonde head, where was it, he thought he saw it but it was a helmet, where  _ was he was he okay was he okay where was he WHERE WAS HE? _

And there, fighting the Queen, the Queen who had started this war, was Draco, and he looked--oh,  _ Merlin _ , he looked horrible. Blood, dripping down his arm, matted in his hair, but still he was fighting so fiercely.

Harry ran.

He threw all of his strength to the wind and he  _ ran _ , fast and hard and  _ fast _ , faster than he had ever run before. 

Something bad was in the air, he could smell it, taste it,  _ feel it hanging off him _ like a heavy cloak in a too-cold room. The feeling crawled down his spine, only making his resolve firmer.

He threw his sword. " _ Duck! _ " He didn't know why, he just did, and it hit the Queen in the neck, blade first. Draco had dodged it, and now he turned, smiling, grinning.

Then he fell, smile collapsing, eyes widening, and he fell. 

Harry ran.

And Harry caught him.

Draco's weight was heavy in his arms, his eyes unfocused, flickering, glazed. His hand wobbled, clutching Harry's, his hands were caked in his own blood. It was sticky. "Hey," he said, his voice hoarse, choking, breathless. "You caught me."

"I promised." Harry was crying, but he didn't need to, because  _ Draco was fine _ . Draco was fine, Draco was fine, Draco was going to be  _ fine he was going to be fine fine fine fine-- _

Draco was not fine. He could feel it, pulsing outward from the gash in his stomach, his life flowing out with his blood, with his tears. He reached up. Harry grabbed his hand.

And Draco smiled.

Around them, the fighting slowly came to an end as the enemy forces realized their Queen was dead, her throat cut, and they ran. And Harry wept. 

Half kneeling, half lying, with Draco clutched in his arms, Harry wept. His tears mingled with the blood. He stayed there until the battle was over. The war was over. The fighting had ended. Harry stayed there, Draco in his arms, gasping for breath and pleading,  _ begging _ , please, please, please don’t take him away, don’t take him away,  _ don’t take him away from me _ . His pleas went unanswered, lost in the wind, lost in his screams.

Draco's smile transfixed on his face. His eyes closed. He could have been sleeping. He wasn’t.

Draco fell. And Harry caught him.

He'd promised that he would.

**Author's Note:**

> I guess you could say Draco FELL for Harry? Eh? No?  
> I’m sticking by that. No regrets.  
> As for the fic, it turned out rather well in my opinion. Now, as a disclaimer, I am not a romance writer. I have had no experience with romance, and I tend not to purposefully seek out stories with romance as its main theme. Therefore, the Drarry romance in this may come across as a little… off. If it does, please tell me! And, if you could, tell me how to fix it? I’m not entirely sure, to be honest. It’s driving me nuts at the moment and I’m already insane enough. Another thing that might be hindering the story a bit is the fact that I’ve never written Drarry before. Or Draco and Harry separately for that matter. I’ve never written in the HP fandom. And I’m very aware that they’re acting extremely OOC in this, but I couldn’t really imagine a slow-burn taking place here. Not enough room, and I’m on shaky enough ground with romance as it is (I’m much better with platonic ships). So, I hope you enjoyed, despite its flaws. Or, less of enjoyed and more of had an emotional reaction to it? Caellie and I love emotions. Except when we have them ourselves. They stink sometimes. But they’re one of the greatest gifts you could give us!  
> \--Vaye
> 
> Edit: I agree; emotions are great unless we're experiencing them ourselves. Then they are a curse. But I digress. Neither of us have ever written in the HP fandom, and the characters are probably a bit OOC in this. Apologies if this bothers anyone. On another note, while I enjoy platonic ships as much as the next person, I love coming across romance in writing pieces, whether they are a slow-burn or a oneshot, such as this one. I know my comments are a bit late, but I just wanted to add these as well. I do hope you enjoyed this one~!  
> ~ Caellie


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